


On the Path to the Wrath

by Afrokot



Series: Fast Forward [1]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Gen, may be seen as pre-slash... if you wear glasses with extra thick slash lenses
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-07-17
Updated: 2013-07-17
Packaged: 2017-12-20 11:53:37
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,202
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/886956
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Afrokot/pseuds/Afrokot
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"Just get out, or I'm calling my dad."</p><p>Peter smiles wryly. "Why? Can't I have a perfectly legitimate reason for seeking your company?"</p><p>"I'm a teenage boy, it's night, and you are in my bedroom," deadpans Stiles.</p>
            </blockquote>





	On the Path to the Wrath

There could have been a noise to his right, Stiles isn't sure, but he pauses the movie he's just started and carefully turns to check it anyway, just in case… and there the reason of the noise is: Beacon Hills' resident zombie extraordinaire standing just this side of his window. Damn, he should have closed it!

"Oh, god!" Flailing and barely avoiding falling out of bed, Stiles still catches his laptop when it slides from his thighs. "What are you doing here" — a glance at the digital clock on the table, the numbers glow an eerie green — "at half past eleven? I have school tomorrow. I could have been asleep!"

"Hello to you, too," Peter says, pleasant as ever. "Didn't you hear me knocking?"

"Just not on the front door?" Stiles's voice is as sarcastic as he is able to make it, that is to say, very. "Never mind that. Just get out, or I'm calling my dad." _Hmm… Or maybe I should call Mr. Argent?_ "Or better yet, Chris." His last sentence starts as a statement, gains indecision toward the middle and ends up being a question. _Crap! I didn't mean to sound so indecisive!_

Peter smiles wryly. "Why? Can't I have a perfectly legitimate reason for seeking your company?"

"I'm a teenage boy, it's night, and you are in my bedroom," deadpans Stiles. 

At that Peter gives him a funny look. "What, are you implying I am a sexual predator here to rob a cradle?" He adopts an exaggeratedly hurt expression, managing to sound equal parts mocking and disapproving. _How does he pull it off?_ "That's harsh! Is it because I'm a werewolf? Very speciest of you. I resent that."

"Gee, I don't know, Mister Sleazy McCreep. Maybe it has nothing to do with you being a supernatural creature and everything with your unhealthy habit of stalking underage students? Hmm? What about almost driving Lydia crazy? Or how about that time you wanted Scott to _kill us all?"_ Stiles opens his eyes very wide, which makes him look a little like a startled baby owl — not that he is aware of that, of course — and continues. "And let's not forget that not so long ago _you were a dearly departed extra crispy corpse!"_ Nobody can accuse him of being tactful. _Ever._ "And now you are technically undead, so." He shrugs slightly and gestures with his hands as if to say 'take your pick.'

Peter rolls his eyes. "First of all, as you well know, stalking youth is more up my nephew's alley. I just was in the neighborhood." Sighing, he leans against the window frame. "Secondly, I can't be held responsible for anything I did while being in an unsound state of mind." 

With an eye-roll of his own Stiles mutters, "Yeah, of course, plead insanity, why won't you?" under his breath, which is absolutely pointless, given his current company's preternatural senses.

Peter politely talks over him. "Could you honestly blame me for wanting to live? And how many times do we have to hold this discussion? Don't you think it's gotten old after the fifth rendition? It's been literally years since I last did something even remotely threatening to you or one of your friends." It sounds like he is mildly exasperated and a trifle resigned. "It was water under the bridge so long ago, the bridge fell down, and the government funded building of a new, better one, which, despite being sturdier, has already grown old and is also on the verge of collapsing." 

Ignoring that last remark, though he secretly finds it surprisingly funny _(what? It totally is!),_ Stiles quips, "And yet, your presence still somehow never fails to remind me of that fun time and make me feel ill at ease." Because Peter is right, it had been ages since the last time Stiles felt afraid of him, uncomfortable — sure, but not unsafe.

"In addition, you are turning eighteen next month." 

"You know my birthday! See, it entirely proves my point of you being a creepy stalker!" 

Peter rolls his eyes again. "Oh, please, as if you weren't the one who sent _me_ a present for _my_ birthday. I appreciate it, by the way." 

Stiles shifts, caught off guard. "Why do you think it was from me and not from one of your friends, assuming you have them? Or from someone from the pack?"

"No one beside Derek knows where I live _or_ the date of my birthday, and he didn't even bother with verbal acknowledgment," he says flatly.

A-a-and… Considering the implication… Stiles refuses to feel sorry for him. He refuses, _okay?!_  

"OK, yes, no need to thank me. I meant it as a joke. I didn't know you'd seriously like it!" His traitorous heart does a brief teeny tiny skip, like it's not sure if its owner is lying or not, before resuming its usual pattern.  

Peter regards him with a skeptical expression on his face, but, thankfully, lets it slide. "Anyway, I'm not here to argue with you."

"Oh, truly? And what are you here to do with me, then?" Stiles says. When Peter just stares at him, unimpressed, he sighs in resignation. "All right, I'll bite. What do you _really_ want?"

"I want to join you for your evening's entertainment."

Stiles blinks. "What?" 

"Have you suddenly developed hearing problems?" Peter looks concerned for all of a second. "And I thought you were the intelligent one." He sighs, disappointed, but clarifies. "I'd like to watch Star Trek, of course."

It is so unexpected that Stiles just parrots, feeling dumb, "You'd like to watch Star Trek."

"Yes. Now move over, please." 

"Why?" His tone turns suspicious.

"So I can sit down? I hardly can see the screen from here."

"Um."

"What is it that's so difficult to understand?"

Stiles opens his mouth, but for once he is at a loss for words. The concept of a movie night with Peter is surreal. It might have broken his brain.

Meanwhile, Peter is still talking. "I happen to be a fan, you know, and 'The Wrath of Khan' is my favorite in the series. Also, I haven't seen it for several years, what with being in a coma, then being dead, and after that recent events kept me busy…" He shrugs, making Stiles inexplicably sad.

However it doesn't stop him from muttering, "You can pull the coma card only so many times before it stops working."

"Ah, yes, but It still does, doesn't it?" With a disarming smile, Peter concludes, "Anyway, I seem to recall you said something about school in the morning, so let's get started."

And with nothing to object to that — it's not like he is going to throw the guy out after such a revealing speech. He may be the first to call himself an asshole, but he is not heartless, not completely, okay? — Stiles shuts his mouth with an audible click, moves when Peter gracefully sits down next to him, grabs the laptop and presses play. He is going to enjoy his favorite movie even with a _possibly —_  his grudging allowing of possibility instead of certainty is based on Peter's behavior PR (Post Resurrection) — psycho werewolf. Apparently, that's his life now.


End file.
